


Give Me Wings

by FearlessinBlue



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FearlessinBlue/pseuds/FearlessinBlue
Summary: Boggard Kinglsey makes a living covering up peoples regrets with his art, but when Marianne Fairfield roars into town with fire in her eyes and a broken heart he suddenly finds his world thrown upside down in the best of ways. Suddenly his hibernating heart awakes and Marianne begins to put herself back together. Love will force its way into their lives, whether they like it or not.





	1. Another One Bites the Dust

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in this fandom but I believe I have read just about every fanwork that I can for this topic. I hope that this AU is as awesome for you all as it is for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?   
> Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?   
> Out of the doorway the bullets rip  
> To the sound of the beat  
> Another one bites the dust"
> 
> -Queen 'Another One Bites the Dust'

His alarm went off when the sun was already high in the sky and the street was bustling with activity, but the bedroom was still bathed in silence and complete darkness. Boggard "Bog" Kingsley groaned mournfully as the insistent blare relentlessly pulled him from the bliss of sleep. One long, lanky arm emerged from under a bundle of covers and slammed around on the night stand until he finally managed to silence the annoying device. Like a vampire rising from the dead he sat up and sleepily watched as the covers fell back onto the bed, hopelessly tangled in his fitful sleep. With another groan he pushed himself to his full height, suddenly towering over everything in the room.

Bog stumbled sleepily to the bathroom and proceeded to take a shower that consisted mostly of him staring blankly at the off-white tiles of the small cubicle and bending down slightly to rinse off the soap that he had half-heartedly rubbed into his hair. When he stepped out of his tiny shower the bathroom was filled with steam and one glance at the fogged up mirror was excuse enough not to shave. The stubble on his pointed chin would live to see another day. Bog's face was all hard angles and sharp features that he had inherited from his father. His cheekbones were high and very pronounced on his thin face and his pointed nose rested crookedly on his face, the result of one too many bar fights. He pushed his unruly black hair back so that it was out of his eyes and slicked back on his head. The stubborn locks refused to stay slicked down and instead one wayward hair draped down onto his forehead. Bog rolled his eyes at his hair's antics but decided to ignore it in favor of wrestling with his clothes.

A few minutes later he shuffled into his small kitchen wearing ripped jeans and an old band t-shirt. His gaze was locked on the antique coffee maker that was sitting innocently on the counter. He rifled around in the cupboards as the old machine started up and eventually he emerged victorious with a bag of coffee. As Bog waited for his coffee to magically fill his cup he slid on his worn black combat boots. They were about the only shoe that he could find that fit his huge feet. It seemed like for most of his life being his height and being skinny was more of a burden than a blessing. Especially with a mug like his.

Absentmindedly he rubbed at the prickly stubble that had taken up residence on his chin and desperately tried to push those poisonous thoughts out of his head for just one more minute. It had been nice waking up from a dreamless sleep for once and his head had been blessedly empty up until that moment. It was too late. Those poisonous little thoughts that whispered about how ugly and unworthy of love he was were erasing his good mood.

With a growl he forced himself to his feet. He snatched the familiar chipped mug off of its perch on the drying rack and angrily poured scalding coffee into his mug. He then slipped on his favorite leather jacket and left his apartment. Behind him the door slammed indignantly and the stairs echoed with the force of his steps. As he neared the bottom of the stairs the sound of people talking and music became louder until the walls were practically pulsing with the noise.

Bog yanked open the door at the bottom of the stairs and walked into a pub in the middle of lunch rush. He sipped his coffee as he gracefully made his way between tables towards the front door. He nodded to Stephanie, the bouncer and a childhood friend of his. The thick, muscular woman gave him a half smile but her steely eyes never left the interior of the bar. He dirty blonde hair was cropped short to her head and she was wearing a t-shirt with the name of the bar printed across it in big white lettering. The Dark Forest had been his father's bar and when his father had passed away Bog had inherited it. While he loved running the old place he divided his time between here and his Aunt's shop.

He had almost made it outside when suddenly a shrill voice echoed throughout the bar and stopped him in his tracks, "Bog!!!" An older woman with frizzy reddish brown hair hobbled up out of nowhere, dragging a stumbling young woman behind her.

"Look who I found just waiting around." Griselda Kingsley smirked and shoved the poor girl forward. She was obviously drunk already and had no idea what she was getting herself into. Bog took a deep calming breath and turned around to reluctantly address his mother and the latest 'wife material'.

"Guid mornin' mum." His deep voice rumbled with a thick Scottish accent and he warily watched as the girl in front of him swayed dangerously. Suddenly she stumbled over nothing and sent her fruity drink splashing onto the ground. The majority of it managed to soak the bottom of Bog's jeans and his boots. He snarled in disgust and his short temper flared up like a firework. His electric blue eyes practically sizzled with anger as he glared at his mother and the girl she had dragged along with her.

Griselda just ignored his furious look and quickly ushered the sloshed girl away from the mess. She waved her hands dismissively and the crooked grin on her face remained in place.

"Oh don't worry about her dear. There are plenty of lovely young women in the bar today. Care to take a crack at a few?" She winked and elbowed his side hard enough that he flinched and looked down at her in a glorious mix of fury and embarrassment.

"Mum. I dorn't-" he tried to protest but Griselda cut him off with another screech.

"THEO! COME CLEAN UP THIS MESS!" Almost immediately a short skinny guy rushed out from the kitchen with a mop and a bucket. He had an eager smile on his face and when he realized where the mess was it grew even larger. He hurriedly began mopping but all of his attention was focused on Stephanie.

"H-hi Steph." He greeted her tentatively and she spared him a slight smile and a head nod before going back to watching the lunch crowd. Theo immediately turned bright red and his grin became impossibly bigger as he happily mopped up the mess of drink.

"Now no more excuses Bog. I want you to go find a lady and charm the pants off of her." Griselda scolded her son who slumped slightly and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Mum ah dorn't have time. Ah gotta get tae work." He growled out and like a flash of lightning Griselda's smile transformed to a disapproving frown and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't like that you are still working for that...that harpy!" She spat out the word like it had burned her and narrowed her eyes at her son. Dreading the idea of having this argument again, Bog slowly inched back towards the door. Before he could think of an answer there was a crash as the girl that Griselda had been pushing on Bog knocked over a stool and her own glass. In that moment of distraction Bog darted out of the bar and onto the street.

The sunlight hit him like a searchlight and he was momentarily blinded as his eyes tried to adjust to the onslaught of bright light. The bar had been dimly lit and his apartment was barely lit so the sudden intrusion of sunlight affected him more than usual. Cursing under his breath, Bog trudged down the street, his hand shoved in his pocket and his eyes burning slightly. He only had to walk a few blocks before he reached his destination, a small tattoo shop called 'Strange Magic' which sat nestled between a restaurant and Bog's favorite bookstore.

His Aunt Aura "Plum" Saccharine ran the tattoo shop and happily employed her favorite, and only, nephew during the afternoons on weekdays. He specialized mostly in cover ups but occasionally he took a client that wanted something dark or too complex for Plum. Bog braced himself, his grip tightening on his coffee cup, and then pushed open the door. He was immediately assaulted by the sights and sounds that were unique to Plum. The short curvy woman was clad in a skin tight sparkly blue dress and her cotton candy pink hair was piled on top of her head in a messy style that looked vaguely like a beehive had been perched on top of her head. Her face was caked with colorful makeup and her body was covered in jewelry. She was pierced from head to toe, and sported an impressive tattoo collection, half of which she did herself.

Plum's work was impressive to say the least and she was the only person that Bog trusted with his own tattoos. As it stood both of his arms were covered in angry, dark vines, only broken up by leaves and the occasional pink primrose. The tattoos connected on his shoulders and became a set of dragonfly wings that had yet to be finished.

When Plum caught sight of Bog she put her hands on her hips and smirked teasingly at her nephew. "Well well well. Look who showed up." Bog just walked past her towards the secluded room that housed his station. The decor of the little shop was a mix between whimsical and just plain random but Bog's space was dark and comfortable and completely devoid of sparkles. As he walked past Plum he was hit with a wall of her perfume and he had to cough slightly to dispel enough of it for him to breathe.

"Fuck Plum, ye wearin' enough perfume today?" He groused grumpily and Plum frowned for a moment before the mischievous glint returned to her eye. She followed Bog back to his station, much to his chagrin, and lingered in the doorway as he began to set up his equipment.

"You're just grumpy because today is the last day of the month." She grinned and Bog looked up at her in confusion for a moment before it hit him. Plum had a proclivity for tattooing matching tattoos for couples that came in. Didn't matter how cheesy or how bad, Plum would gladly tattoo just about any matching tattoo for half price. Unfortunately that gave the shop a reputation and most of their clientele consisted of lovesick fools looking to get matching ink. It made Bog sick. Not long after he became proficient in cover-ups, Bog made a bet with his Aunt that every tattoo that she did would end in a cover-up done by him. He was the only cover-up artist in town and made sure that the shop also had a reputation for sick cover-ups.

Only about a month ago Plum had tattooed two teenagers that had just graduated from high school with matching infinity signs that contained each other's names. Almost as soon as the customers left Bog had blurted:

"Ah give it a month." Plum had immediately accepted the challenge and thus began the next match in their little competition. Bog always won.

"They'll shaw up. Ah know it. Now leave me alone woman. Ah got stuff tae do." He smirked and relaxed in his chair, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing helping him keep his sanity. In a place like 'Strange Magic' it probably was. He had about an hour of alone time before the door jingled to signal that a customer had walked into the shop. After a minute, Plum's tense voice echoed back to his station.

"Bog.... you have a customer." It sounded like someone was pulling her teeth the way she said it and a victorious smirk spread across Bog's face as he got up and strutted out to the lobby. Standing at the counter and refusing to look at Plum was the young girl that she had tattooed a month ago. When the girl saw Bog she hurried over to him and away from Plum who managed to simultaneously look hurt and angry. Bog just grinned at his aunt and ushered the girl back to his private work place.

She requested that the tattoo be covered up by her favorite flower, a rose. Bog had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could do roses in his sleep he did so many of them. Instead he prepped his ink and silently got to work, blazing through the intricate and delicate flower like it was nothing. A couple hours later the piece was done and he was checking the girl out at the front. As if on cue the boy with the matching tattoo shuffled into the shop. He froze when he caught sight of his ex and Bog had to stop himself from turning around and sticking his tongue out at Plum. The girl shoved her money at him and then bolted from the store, steadfastly not looking at the boy.

"Lemme guess. Ye wanna cover up th' tattoo ye got last month?" He leaned on the counter and spun the pen he was holding in between his fingers. The awkward look on the boy's face only got worse as he wordlessly nodded yes and a smile spread across Bog's face.

"Excellent." He murmured and then led the way back to his station. He cleaned everything down and then got to work on the Godzilla ripping out of the boy's arm. As he worked the boy chattered on endlessly about the movie, its history, the remakes, his favorite scenes. Just about anything he could think of about Godzilla. By the end of the session Bog was starting to understand why the girl had broken up with this kid. Once the piece was done and he had been paid he turned around and smirked at Plum who was angrily flipping through a magazine at her station.

"Pay up love guru." He said sarcastically and Plum reluctantly fished fifty bucks out of her wallet before throwing the cash at a still smirking Bog. She pouted as she walked over to the front counter and fixed her nephew with a determined glare.

"You're like the grinch of love." She said petulantly Bog just chuckled and bowed in acceptance of his new title.

"Yer a fool if ye think tattoos are gonna make people fall in love." He snarked as he swallowed the last of his now cold coffee. He put the mug aside mournfully and looked out at the darkening streets. It was still during business hours but a storm was rolling in that was darkening the sky and making the wind groan as it raced past their shop.

"Someday my little love recipe is going to work and then you'll be the one owing me money!" Plum huffed and Bog rolled his eyes, deciding that it would be best to ignore her, at least it was until she made one more spiteful comment.

"And I hope that it's you that falls victim to it." She smirked when Bog stiffened and turned to face her, his face as dark as thunder and his blue eyes blazing with fury.

"Ye keep yer meddlin' hands out of mah life! Ah dornt wanna have tae deal wi' ye an' mum. Yer almost worse than 'er!" He roared indignantly but Plum just rolled her eyes like he was a child throwing a tantrum. An observation that wasn't too far off. Neither of them noticed the roaring of a powerful engine growing closer to their shop. They also didn't notice when a deep purple motorcycle came to a stop in front of their shop.

"I'm sick of you glooming up my shop with your ban on lovey dovey tattoos you big GRINCH!" Plum screeched as the rider got off of the bike and started walking towards the door.

" Because love is dangerous. It weakens ... It rots. It destroys order. And without order, what is left? CHAOS!" Plum rolled her eyes at the familiar rant but in response Bog only raised his voice, his face turning red with the force of his anger. Plum opened her mouth to retort but someone cleared their throat pointedly. Plum's face immediately transformed into a friendly smile and they both turned to look at the woman that had waltzed into the shop like she owned the place.

"How can I help you dear?" Plum asked in a sickly sweet tone and Bog just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't even paying attention to the customer as he stewed in his own ire. The woman spared him a glance that went unnoticed before turning her brown eyes to Plum.

"I'm here for him." She nodded to Bog who suddenly looked at her in surprise and confusion. Plum wilted a little when she realized that she wasn't going to get her ink on the woman's dainty little form.

"I need a cover up. Now." Bog just nodded in shock and gestured towards his room. The woman nodded to him and led the way. Bog spared a confused glance at Plum who just shrugged and went about her business.

"You coming bean pole?" Her voice called from the back and Bog hurried after her, slightly impressed by her no nonsense tone.

" So what can Ah dae for ye?" He asked gruffly as he sat down in his chair. To his utter shock the woman ripped off her shirt to reveal tanned, smooth skin. She turned around and still managed to pin his startled eyes with a serious look.

"I want you to give me wings."


	2. Broken Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect this fabulous response to this story and I was delighted with what I got. So here is another chapter for yall!!
> 
> "Take these broken wings  
> And learn to fly again  
> And learn to live so free  
> When we hear the voices sing  
> The book of love will open up  
> And let us in  
> Take these broken wings"
> 
> -Mr. Mister 'Broken Wings'

Bog knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. He was no stranger to seeing bare skin, being a tattoo artist, but he was definitely not accustomed to beautiful women, like the one standing before him, tearing their shirts off for him without a second thought. Usually it took some convincing to get people comfortable with partial nudity in front of him. But this girl didn't seem to give it a second thought. He felt like all the breath had been pulled out of his chest before he even had a chance to breathe. Blinking desperately, Bog tried to gather himself and deliver some kind of witty response, anything that would make it seem like he had been thinking rather than frantically trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Yer gonna have tae be more specific." He finally croaked out, his deep voice cracking slightly. Inwardly he cussed himself out for sounding like a teenage boy, an idiot of a teenage boy at that. But when his blue eyes looked up at the woman her soft face had pulled into a beguiling smirk. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned around so she could comfortably explain her idea to him. 

Bog's eyes immediately shot skyward and his throat dried up like a desert in the summer. Now she was just casually sitting there, bare and exposed, without realizing it. His pale face turned a few interesting shades of red and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Bog was trying his best not to freak out and as he took deep breaths through his nose he mused on the fact that he was so effected by this particular woman. He had seen boobs before, hell he had tattooed a boob once! But he still couldn't look at hers. The hidden gentleman in him balked so violently at that that he felt almost nauseous.

"What's wrong?" The woman asked and Bog almost burst out into hysterical laughter at that point. She was sitting in front of a hideous stranger, topless, and she had no idea what was wrong. He settled for letting out a strangled chuckle and gesturing to where he hoped her shirt was resting on the table. He heard the rustling of fabric and his heart decided that today was not the day to burst out of his chest and began to slow its thumping.

"Ok you're good." Her voice came from in front of him and Bog cautiously looked back to where she was sitting. She was holding the t-shirt in front of her chest casually and that damned smirk sent a thrill up his sensitive spine. Bog cleared his throat a couple of times and when it didn't help he just did what he did best and clumsily stumbled his way through.

"So uh... what dae ye want me tae cover up, an' what dae ye want tae cover it up with?" He stumbled through the sentence and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't laugh at his attempt at communication. The woman turned around again and gestured towards the cutesy little tattoo that sat on her shoulder blade.

Bog rolled closer to get a batter look and was immediately assaulted with the smell of hyacinth and lavender. Before his brain could go on another dazed vacation he reigned in his thoughts and focused on the job, on the tattoo. It was what he did best, and it was efficient in calming him down enough to focus on the actual tattoo.

It was a dainty yellow buttercup, composed using realistic style, and beneath it the name Roland was scrawled in loopy, elegant text. The tattoo looked freshly healed, not even a month old. Bog immediately understood on a basic level. She had gotten someone's name tattooed on her back and now that person wasn't in her life anymore. A wayward part of his brain wondered if that meant that she was single but he quickly tamped it down. He reached out to touch the tattoo, wanting to feel for any scarring and as soon as his long, calloused fingers brushed over her smooth skin she flinched slightly and let out a surprised breath. Bog immediately pulled back and the cold feeling of rejection flowed through him like a tidal wave. She didn't want to be touched by the monster, no one did. He let out a little growl and suddenly it was much easier to focus on the job. However, buried deep beneath his gruff persona his brain tantalized him with thoughts about how her skin felt, how she had treated him differently, how unique she was. He didn't know that his touch had sent a blaze of sensation through the woman.

"So let's talk wings." He spun around and grabbed his sketch pad so he could take some rough notes and begin his sketch. The woman turned around and slid her shirt back on so quickly that he didn't notice until he looked up to get her ideas.

"Sure thing Stretch." she grinned but before she could say anything else Bog cut her off with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed stare.

"It's Bog. Bog Kingsley." He grouched and the woman just let out a rough laugh that was the complete opposite of the tinkling giggle that he had been expecting. She just kept surprising him this one.

"Bog. Hmm...ok." She seemed to think it over as if she was validating his name in some way, which was ridiculous because it was actually his name, "I'm Marianne."

Se thrust out a hand and Bog tentatively clasped it in his much larger one. He savored the feeling of her tiny hand encompassed in his grip for a few seconds before he let it go and turned his attention back to his sketch pad. He gestured for her to start talking and she immediately began giving him the details about the piece. 

An hour later she was laying out on his table like she was relaxing at home and he was putting the finishing touches on the large sketch. When he was finished he turned it around to show her. For some reason his stomach was doing flips hoping that she would approve of his vision, at first it had been hard to think of what kind of butterfly wings to put on her, but the style he had chosen felt right.

When Marianne looked at the drawing her hazel eyes opened wide in surprise and her smirk turned into a blazing smile that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. She reached out and ran her fingers over the drawing before looking up at Bog and turning the full force of her smile onto him.

"They're fucking awesome." She whispered with so much awe in her voice that Bog found his face heating up for what felt like the millionth time since she had burst into his life.

"What are ye thinkin' for color?" He said in response, too shy to accept her praise. Marianne's brow furrowed slightly when he seemed to brush off her praise but she decided to let it go for now.

"I was thinking some deep purples and blues. I'm more into darker colors than all of that bright frilly stuff." Bog made a note on the sketch and held his tongue before he could ask why she got a yellow buttercup if she didn't like bright colors. Marianne reached for the hem of her shirt again but before she could take it off Bog's hand grabbed hers and stopped her. Bog chuckled nervously when Marianne gave him a questioning look and gestured to his work table, which needed to be set up before he could start.

"This is gonnae take multiple sessions. How long can ye sit for?" He asked as he prepped the black ink for the outline and got his supplies ready for cleaning the skin and soothing it afterwards. He wasn't expecting the snarky reply but at this point he didn't know what to expect from Marianne.

"For as long as you can tattoo." She said it like it was nothing but when Bog looked over at her with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving look she just smiled and shrugged. Bog felt a smile spread across his face and a deep chuckle burst forth from his chest as he shook his head and looked at the feisty woman sitting on his table. It was the first time since she walked in that he actually got a chance to take in her appearance. She had short brown hair that rested messily on her head in a way that was almost fitting now that he had gotten a taste of her personality. Her eyes were accented by a dark blue eye shadow and her lips were painted with faintly purple lipstick. She was wearing black jeans and a long red top, thankfully. Her clunky black combat boots could have been the twins to his own if they weren't decorated with swirling gold designs drawn with gold sharpie. She cut an impressive figure and as Bog put on his sterile black gloves she stripped off her shirt once more and put it under her chest so that she could comfortably lay on her stomach.

Bog, relieved that she had picked up on the fact that he was ready to begin, grabbed his custom machine and rolled his chair over to the small stereo in the back. He cued up his favorite mix of classic rock and rockabilly and hummed along to 'Back in Black' as he rolled over to where Marianne lay waiting for him. The machine clasped in his long fingers had been handmade for him by his friend and metal worker Brutus and looked like a tangled mess of black briar vines encircling a wooden B. It was Bog's favorite machine and he only used it for his favorite tattoos. He had decided that this occasion was one of those.

"We're only gonna dae the outline today." Bog said calmly as he started up the machine and a faint buzzing filled the room. He gently rested a hand on her back to keep her steady but this time she didn't flinch, rather she seemed to relax under his calming touch. "Let me know if ye need a break Tough Girl."

He gave her the nickname unconsciously but as soon as the words fell off of his tongue he knew that it was meant for her. She gave him an amused snort before settling back into position for him to start. Bog placed the stencil over her back and then peeled in back to reveal the purple outline that he had to go over today. Bog leaned forward, his tall form hunched over so that his warm breath brushed over her skin, and pressed the needle into her skin. 

When Bog tattooed he went to another place, a calm peaceful place where it was only him and the art that he was creating. He usually went quiet and stayed quiet during his sessions so that all of his focus was on the piece. It was usually very disconcerting for his customers but as long the tattoo turned out okay they were usually happy. Today though, his 'happy place' was different. He was actually aware of Marianne as he was tattooing her. He felt comfortable breaking his usual silence, if only he could think of something to talk about.

After a chunk of time where Marianne got used to the tickling painful sensation of the needle and Bog got into his groove with the design, Marianne broke the silence.

"I'm sure you're curious about the story behind the tattoo." She chuckled barely so as not to jostle Bog and ruin his delicate outline work. Bog never looked away from his work but his deep voice replied anyways.

" Mah mum taught me better than tae pry intae other people's lives." He paused and shifted slightly farther up Marianne's back, "But Ah willnae deny that Ah am curious." Marianne let out another little chuckle and as Bog steadily worked up the left side of her back she began to tell her story.

"I almost got married two weeks ago." That statement alone caused Bog's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. He had assumed that she and her boyfriend had broken up, nothing as serious as a fiancée, "He didn't really love me, but I didn't find that out until the day before." She let out a shuddering sigh and her voice was filled with a myriad of emotions as she spoke. Bog wanted to tell her that she could stop, that they didn't have to talk about this, but for some reason he had a feeling that she needed to talk about this.

"I went over to his apartment to give him a boutonniere that I had made for him but..." She paused for a moment and Bog felt her body tense up for a second before she let out a deep breath and relaxed once more. He placed his free hand on her lower back in what he hope was a comforting touch. 

"One of my bridesmaids opened the door and I could see Roland laying on the couch naked. He had been cheating on me the day before the wedding, and probably for a lot longer than that." Bog felt his grip on the machine tighten and he gritted his teeth in an effort to hold back the white hot flare of anger than manifested as she told her story. Any man that cheated on a woman as beautiful as this had to be the dumbest man in the world. If Marianne was his he would never... Bog stopped that train of thought in its tracks and quickly buried it in the back of his mind to be addressed later. Right now was about listening to Marianne.

"And then he has the nerve to come to the door and try to explain it away. So I punched him as hard as I could. He dropped like a fucking rock. It was the most satisfying thing that I have ever done." Bog smirked but said nothing as he moved farther up to her shoulder, skirting around the offending piece of art and the man that he hated without ever having met him, "And the rest is history. I called off the wedding and decided that no one needed to know what he did. I was done with it all."

Bog waited a second to make sure that she was done before he finally spoke, "Ye didne mention how ye got the ink." He pointed out and Marianne let out another breathy little chuckle that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Maybe he needed to get his heart checked because this many skips in one day could not be healthy.

"It was Roland's idea. He said if I trusted him I would let him get me a surprise tattoo. I was an idiot in love so I said yes and I got it. I've always hated the dumb thing. Feels like a brand. I should have known he was a dirt bag when he refused to do the same thing for me." She let out a frustrated snort and Bog's free hand unconsciously caressed the small of her back in an attempt to get her to calm down. They sat in silence for a little while before Bog decided that an exchange was the best way to dispel the awkwardness that had decided to settle between the two of them.

"Be glad that ye didne get matchin' tattoos." His voice was low and laced with emotion and past regrets. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as if she could see through his heavy leaves to find the mistake he had hidden from the world.

"You speak from experience?" Marianne asked quietly and the lingering emotion in her voice suddenly made Bog comfortable enough to let his own tale spill from his lips.

"Aye." He took a deep breath and frantically tried to control the rolling sea in his stomach. He could make it through this story, he could bare himself just like she had done. Something about her made him comfortable telling his story even though part of him was screaming for him to keep the secret and keep her from coming to the same realization that Bella had come to. 

"Ah was in love with a girl." His story was halting and slow but Marianne never once interrupted or tried to change the topic. She just listened. 

"I got Plum tae dae matchin' tattoos an' then a week later she dumped me for someone else." Bog gulped and forced his hand not to shake as he traced a line back down Marianne's back, dancing around the dip in her back where her spine was. He struggled with the next words and when they finally came out it was barely loud enough for Marianne to hear over the buzz of the machine and the music in the background.

"She said Ah was too hideous tae love."

Bog felt Marianne's body stiffen and she turned her head to the side so that she was looking up at Bog as best as she could. He tried not to meet her gaze but she was silently demanding that he look at her so he reluctantly turned his thin sharp face and sad blue eyes towards her. The buzz of the machine was silenced as he stopped his work. Marianne pinned him with her gaze and he felt like he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

"You're not hideous. She was a dumbass." She said abruptly before turned her head back around to hide her blush. Bog was not as fortunate because at that moment his face was read and his heart was pounding so hard that he couldn't even hear the music over the sound. He let a tiny smile escape his control and turned back to his work on her back so that he could ignore the warm feeling that started in his gut and rose up through his body. It didn't work.

They spent the next couple of hours talking about nothing and everything. The barriers between strangers had been eviscerated when they had shared their heartbreak. All of the sudden they were arguing like old friends and debating like best friends. It made the hours go by quickly and tucked away in Bog's private station neither noticed when the sun went down and nighttime set in. By the time Bog had finished the outline it was way past when he was supposed to be at the bar. He knew that only because his phone had started blowing up an hour ago. Bog looked over the outline, examining the line consistency and making sure that everything matched up before he turned off his machine and sat up.

His back cracked and he let out a little crown as he cracked his knuckles and his neck as well. He gently wiped down the tattoo and taped a protective sheet of plastic wrap over the irritated skin. Marianne got up and slid her shirt back on as he busied himself with cleaning up his station and packing up for the night. He glanced at his phone and groaned when he saw thirty text messages and ten calls from his mother.

He turned around and found Marianne watching him with interest and a small smile on her face. He froze under her gaze and his cheeks were still flaming as he led her out of his station and into the dark shop. Plum had already gone home for the night so the shop was peaceful for once. Now that he was standing next to Marianne, Bog realized that she was a lot smaller than him. He towered over everyone, but this fact came as a surprise because back in that room he had felt like they were equals, in everything. At the same time he found it oddly endearing how he looked standing next to the little spitfire. He quickly shook himself and took the payment that Marianne offered to him.

She seemed to linger reluctantly by the door as Bog shut everything down for the night, making sure that Plum had locked everything. Once he was satisfied that the shop was locked down for the night he walked out. He was surprised to find Marianne standing next to her motorcycle, her helmet in her hand, and her bottom lip caught securely by her teeth. She looked like she was heavily considering something and Bog found himself intrigued enough to stand awkwardly outside the shop, waiting for her. He was about to say something when Marianne got a determined look on her face and stepped closer to him.

Bog's hands tightened into fists at his side and he held his breath in anticipation, she was killing him with anticipation.

"Wanna go get a drink?" She finally asked, trying to play it off a casual, but the excited nervousness that danced in her eyes was so painfully obvious that Bog was secure in the sincerity of the invitation. He gulped audibly and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck nervously.

"Um yeah." He gained confidence and he smiled large enough to reveal his crooked teeth to her, something he rarely did. His confidence soared as her smile grew and he shoved his idle hands into his pockets, "Sounds guid Tough Girl. Ah know jist the place."

He offered his arm to her on a whim and Marianne gladly wrapped her arm around his. With a saucy smirk from her and a nervous smile from him, they were off.


	3. Take Me Home Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can feel you breathe  
> I can feel your heart beat faster  
> Take me home tonight  
> I don't want to let you go till you see the light  
> Take me home tonight"
> 
> -Eddie Money 'Take Me Home Tonight'

The walk to the bar quickly grew awkward as the silence between them lingered just a moment too long. Neither of them could really think of anything to say that wouldn't sound completely awkward. Bog was obviously lost in his own thoughts and Marianne took this chance to really look at her unlikely companion. Bog was walking slightly hunched over as if he was trying to shrink himself down even the tiniest bit. His elegant hands were stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket and his shoulders were tense with nerves or anger. Marianne honestly couldn't tell by the look on his face.

She knew as soon as she walked into the famous little shop that the lanky man behind the counter was the cover up artist that she had been researching. His work was beautiful and generally edged towards the dark, emotional side of the tattoo spectrum. It was the perfect style for what she wanted. While she knew he was the perfect artist she had no idea that he was a perfect gentleman as well. His grim look had melted away into nerves the moment she took off her shirt and she had a feeling that he wasn't used to nudity despite his profession. It had been oddly charming to say the least.

Marianne chanced a long glance at his face, taking in the sharp angles, the furrowed brow and the way that his lips seemed to naturally draw into a frown. At a longer glance she noticed that his face was littered with various small scars that interlocked and connected his lips to his stubble-covered chin. To put it mildly he looked like a badass.

Marianne felt a spark of arousal run through her at the thought but she quickly snuffed out the tentative feeling. She was done with love, she was done with all of those feelings because she knew exactly what happened when you gave in. You got burned. Bad. She physically shook herself and the movement seemed to pull Bog out of his trance.

Marianne looked up at him with a smirk and he blushed but returned it with a snarky look of his own. Before she could say anything her companion suddenly stopped walking. Marianne almost tripped over herself as she tried to stop with him, but she quickly caught herself.

"Well here we are." Bog reached out and pulled open an ornate wooden door to reveal a dimly lit pub that was filled with what seemed like half the town, "Welcome tae th' Dark Forest."

Marianne slowly walked into the bar, her big brown eyes wide with amazement as she took in the simple wooden furniture, the myriad of people drinking and socializing, and best of all the rock and roll memorabilia that littered the walls. There were signed posters, concert shirts and even a few guitars. Marianne chuckled when she saw that one corner of the bar seemed to be devoted to the King himself, Elvis Presley. There was even an old-fashioned jukebox complete with various records and flashing lights.

She let Bog lead her to the bar where she plopped herself on a cushy bar stool. Once she got settled she looked to her left to find that Bog was not in the other empty bar stool like she had expected. Her heart pounding a little bit she swiveled around to scan the crowd for her lanky companion. Just when she was starting to feel like she had been ditched she felt someone tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Bog on the other side of the bar, wearing an apron and smirking at her as he leaned against the bar. Marianne felt her mouth go dry and a familiar heat flare up in her chest. He looked like he belonged there behind the bar, casually serving drinks and sending her smirks that made shivers crawl up her spine.

"So you work here huh?" She asked, accepting the drink he handed her out of nowhere. She hadn't even seen his hands moving he had made it so quickly. She took a test sip as he chuckled and wiped down the counter. It seemed like a nervous motion but Marianne was distracted from analyzing the lanky bartender as the burn of good alcohol warmed her throat. She let out a contented noise and reexamined the drink that he had handed her. It was an expertly made Manhattan in a simple mason jar. Now that she looked around all of the drink we're in mason jars, another level of charm to this comfortable place.

"Actually... Ah own it." Bog sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and Marianne's eyes widened in surprise as she took another drink. As if anticipating all of the questions that were rolling around in her head Bog leaned forward and kept talking in that wonderfully raspy, harsh voice.

"Ah work days at th' tattoo shop an' nights here." He began to wipe down some dirty glasses that were waiting on the counter. Marianne was about to ask one of the millions of questions that were flying around her head when a piercing shriek echoed through the bar, silencing everyone.

Bog winced and gently set down the glass, his body tensing in preparation for whatever or whoever had managed to bring a clamoring bar to silence. He glanced at her briefly and shook his head when a short, older woman with fiery red hair appeared at the other end of the bar.

"'M sorry." He grumbled to Marianne before the woman started shrieking at Bog, her voice drowning out anything else that he might have said.

"And where the hell have you been young man?!" She roared as she stomped over to Bog. Marianne sat back in her barstool and watched the exchange with great interest, still sipping her Manhattan. She had to admit, this tiny little woman looked like she could wipe the floor with Bog in that moment.

"Well ah was-" Bog tried to answer the question but the woman just continued on with her tirade.

"You were at that goddamn tattoo shop again with that...that dastardly woman!" Her voice increased in volume and Marianne winced as the shrill noise rattled her ear drums, "You should have been here! We’re a full house tonight and my bartender was nowhere to be found."

"Mum Ah can explain-" he tried again but this time he was cut off by Marianne, who decided that she should probably intervene before something or someone got broken.

"Um actually ma'am. I’m the reason that he was late.” The woman’s fury quickly melted away into shock and then glee as she examined Marianne head to toe. Her muddy brown eyes were glinting like a predator that had finally captured its prey.

“Oh! Well in that case there’s no problem at all dearie.” Her voice was sickly sweet and her grin was so huge that it looked like it might break her face in half. She elbowed Bog in the side, pulling his attention away from Marianne and back to her.

“You take good care of this one honey. Drinks are on the house!” She practically skipped back into the kitchens, the entire bar watching her go in confused silence. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen the patrons resumed what they were doing before her outburst. Marianne gave Bog a confused look, one of her perfect eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Bog just shook his head in exasperation and began making drinks for the other patrons at the bar, “Dorn’t ask.”

Marianne giggle and settled in the comfortable bar stool so that she was leaning on the counter, the perfect vantage point to watch the lanky tattoo artist/bartender do his thing. He moved around behind the bar like he had been doing it his entire life.

He wasn’t the type of bartender that chatted a lot with the customers, rather they seemed to appreciate and understand his stony silence. It wasn’t until he drifted back over to her that the tiny smile appeared on his face, pulling his scars slightly. It made her heart flutter suspiciously in her chest but she quickly forced it back into the little box that she had sealed shut the moment she found Roland wrapped up in the arms of her bridesmaid. Love had no place in her life anymore. Bog had potential to be her friend, and she wasn’t going to let it go anywhere else.

To stave of any other unwanted feelings she downed the rest of her drink, letting the burn of the alcohol as it roared down her throat like a waterfall distract her from her wayward heart. A rough chuckle pulled her from her musings and brought her attention back to the gruff tree of a man that was sliding her a new drink.

“Woah! Slow down there Tough Girl. Ye dorn’t wanna end up like ‘er.” He smirked and gestured to the a young woman passed out in a corner, cradling her margarita glass to her chest like a beloved stuffed animal. Marianne frowned in distaste as she took in the sparkly slutty clothes and the caked on layers of makeup. The girl was the exact opposite of Marianne and she glared up at the smug Scotsman with all of the ire in her tiny body.

“Psh!” She took a hefty swig of her new drink and stuck her tongue out at him defiantly, “I’m some lightweight. I may be small but I am mighty.” She flexed and struck a couple poses, growling defiantly under her breath when Bog just leaned against the counter and watched her with a look that could only be akin to that of an adult humoring a small child.

“Yeah sure.” He snorted as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip.

“Hey! I don’t appreciate your tone Twig Boy. I can out-drink anyone here, especially you.” She declared, glaring up at him. He looked down at her in shock, his icy blue eyes widening slightly in surprise before they practically smouldered with confidence.

“Let me get this straight. Ye think ‘at ya can drink me under th’ table? Me?” He snorted and drank the rest of his whiskey in one gulp without even flinching.

“I don’t think. I know I can.” She pounded the rest of her drink and gave him a challenging look, which only made that smirk of his transform into an eager grin that gleamed in his eyes and made him look so…alive.

Marianne pushed her feelings down again, frustrated with their rebellious escapades since she had met the lanky grump. It didn’t help that his voice was so husky and hot as fuck.

"Och ho ho. You’ve dain it now Princess.” He chuckled and took off his apron, his eyes never leaving Marianne molten gaze, “Marsha! We got a shot challenge here. Take ower fur me.”

A female bartender grinned excitedly and began preparing a tray full of shots with various colors and types of liquor. Marianne cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, but every other thought except for intense lust disappeared the moment he cracked his neck.

It was like a switch was suddenly flipped inside of her, and all she wanted to do was pin him to an available surface and have her way with him. She struggled with the all-consuming feeling for a second until the shots appeared in front of her like a godsend. She snatched up a bright blue one and swallowed it like a champ.

Bog watched her with a raised eyebrow, and then picked up a deep green shot. And thus the challenge began. Slowly the rest of the bar patrons drifted over to watch the heated competition between the two stubborn drinkers. Even Steph and Theo had drifted away from their positions to watch the heated exchange.

About 10 shots in, Marianne was gripping the counter and Bog was definitely slumped slightly against the counter. Both of their faces were bright red and their pupils were dilated as they stared one another down.

“You’re daein’ pretty guid, fur a wee fairy." He growled out as he took another shot, his adorable accent thickening with each shot.

“Thanks,” she took another shot, “Wish I could say the same for you.”

Bog’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he practically growled at her. It made her simultaneously angry and aroused, a confusing but manageable combination.

“Whit dae ye mean??” he glared down at her, his employees and regulars watching with interest, almost like it was an actual fight and not a shot challenge.

“I was expecting something…” She gave him a sultry look as she played with an empty shot glass, “…more?”

Behind her, Theo and Steph covered their mouths to hide their snickers as their boss snarled at the sassy little fairy perched on the stool. Never once breaking eye contact, Marianne and Bog simultaneously took a shot. Suddenly the competition had become a race and the two were downing shots like they were going out of style.

When the tray was empty and the counter was littered with empty glasses Marsha came in to count up the glasses and determine the winner. As soon as she was finished counting she took a deep breath and glanced between the two competitors, the anticipation building as everyone held their breath and Bog and Marianne swayed dangerously, trying to keep it together.

“It a tie!” She finally announced and the bar was filled with a chorus of groans as people started to disperse and head for the doors. Now that the crowds had quieted, the roar of thunder and the sound of hard rain as it beat down on the roof was finally revealed. Marianne, as drunk as she was, groaned aloud and glared at the door as if it had personally insulted her.

“Fuuuuck. I see how it is. You get me drunk and now I have to stumble around this town in the rain looking for somewhere to stay.” She grumbled and shouldered her leather jacket back on, struggling with it until finally she was hopelessly tangled in her favorite leather jacket.

She threw it on the ground hopelessly and let out an annoyed grunt. Bog chuckled as he watched her wriggle around in front of the bar. He started gathering the empty shot glasses onto his tray for a few seconds before he realized that he was much too drunk to be handling breakables. He stumbled out from behind the bar and looked down in confusion when his foot came in contact with Marianne’s leather jacket. He leaned down and swept it up into his arms, looking around the already spinning room for the captivating woman that it belonged to.

Marianne was staring at the door in confusion as she debated going out into the storm or finding a nice comfy booth to sleep in. She heard someone clear their throat behind her and she whipped around to find Bog standing there holding out her favorite leather jacket and giving her a shy, lopsided smile that revealed his charmingly crooked teeth. Her heart thumped in her chest and she tentatively took the jacket back.

“Thanks Bog. I should… I guess I should go.” She looked reproachfully at the door leading out into the raging storm. Bog followed her gaze and winced when a particularly loud crack of thunder shook the building. The gentleman in him balked at the thought of letting her go out into that storm. Every part of him fought the image of her trudging through an unfamiliar town, especially in this storm, so he did something completely out of character and unexpected, even by him.

“Ye could live wi' me. Ah live upstairs an’ Ah hae an extra room.” he blurted out and Marianne looked up at him with blatant shock in her golden eyes. They stood in silence for a second, his pale cheeks bright red with the drink and embarrassment and her mouth gaping wide. It felt like they stood there forever, staring at each other in silence, with only the sounds of the angry storm between them.

“Ok.”


	4. Twist of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A higher voice has called the tune  
> Two hearts that lost the beat will now resume  
> The gift of life extension  
> By divine intervention  
> It's gotta be a strange twist of fate  
> Telling me that Heaven can wait  
> Telling me to get it right this time  
> Life doesn't mean a thing  
> Without the love you bring  
> Love is what we've found  
> The second time around"
> 
> -Olivia Newton John 'Twist of Fate'

When Marianne came to the next morning she was swathed in an unfamiliar but infinitely soothing pile of blankets. The scent around her was hard to place but it was all her fuzzy brain could focus on in that moment and she was content to lay there and puzzle it out. After a few minutes of burying her face in those blankets she finally realized that she had smelled that wonderful scent last night. She groaned as she rubbed her temples in an effort to soothe the piercing ache that had suddenly surfaced when she tried to move her brain to matters beyond basking in the comfort of her blanket cocoon. Stubborn as always she slowly worked past the pain and sorted through her blurry memories of the end of her night.

 

Bog had offered her a room for the night and she had been beyond happy when she had discovered that his apartment was on the level above the bar. They had stumbled up the stairs together but once they reached the top, Marianne had spontaneously decided to collapse onto the hardwood and curl up into a ball. She remembered clumsy but strong hands helping her to her feet and then she was pressed up against a slim muscular body, Bog’s body. In her inebriated state she had demanded that her new lanky roommate carry her from that point on. Bog had tried to protest but Marianne had decided for him already and proceeded to climb him. Within seconds she was being swept up into his strong arms and she nestled her face in the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

 

Bog. That’s what her blankets smelled like. It was the exact same smell that she had fallen asleep to the night before. Slightly more awake she sat up and fought with her spinning head and rebellious stomach. If it wasn’t for her competitive nature she would be cursing herself for how much she drank, but when it was in pursuit of a win, she could never regret it. After a few minutes her hangover symptoms ebbed enough for her to get up and shuffle sleepily into the bathroom.

 

She splashed herself with water to finish her waking up process and then took a moment to examine herself in the mirror. Her leftover makeup was smudged and messy, and her roiling stomach only served to further pale her complexion. Her eyes widened comically when she realized that the T-shirt she was wearing was definitely not hers.

 

She hesitantly yanked at the fabric as if it would disappear any second. The worn, soft shirt was comfortable and big enough to come down to her mid thigh and the front proudly proclaimed allegiance to ’The King’. Marianne screwed up her face at the thought and rolled her eyes when she realized that her new roommate had unknowingly revealed that he was the Elvis fan responsible for the Elvis corner in the bar. She snorted and exited the bathroom in search of sustenance.

 

As soon as she shuffled into the living room area she found herself looking down at Bog as he awkwardly sprawled his long limbs over the couch. His face was partially buried into a throw pillow and little snuffling snores were escaping from his mouth. Marianne couldn’t help stopping her exploration in favor of watching him in such a relaxed state. His face was lax with sleep and looked almost childish in its vulnerability. Her fingers tingled with the urge to trace his pronounced features and Marianne stubbornly repressed the urge by stomping away to the kitchen.

 

As soon as she entered the humble space her gaze zeroed in on Bog’s ancient coffeemaker. A flood of relief rushed through her with a strength like she had never known before and she quickly closed the distance between her and her new best friend.

 

“Good morning you beautiful bastard.” She said reverently as she stroked her hand down the front of the coffeemaker before she turned it on and began her search for coffee in her host’s cupboards. She smirked at the bare state she found them in, easily locating the coffee among the lone box of cereal and random foodstuffs. In comparison to the cheap name brands that dominated what little cupboard space he had, his coffee was an expensive dark roast that vaguely recognized. Marianne felt a fleeting moment of guilt at helping herself to Bog’s coffee but she quickly assuaged the feeling by getting out two mugs instead of one. That would make up for it right?

 

* * *

 

Bog awoke to the heady scent of a fresh pot of his favorite coffee. His whole body lurched off of the couch in his eager search for liquid gold, but a pounding headache and roiling nausea promptly sent him sprawling back against the couch cushions.

 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and prayed that the room would eventually stop spinning. For a minute he considered going back to sleep and waiting out the horrific hangover that had fallen prey to, but the smell of his coffee was persistent. Groaning petulantly he slowly got to his feet and shuffled in a zombie-like stupor towards his kitchen where he was met with the aftermath of a drinking competition, namely the sexiest woman in existence.

 

He was struck dumb, staring at her as she leaned against his kitchen counter, looking like she had just rolled out of bed. His bed. Her rebellious brown hair looked like it had been through a hurricane during the night, her makeup was smudged and faded, and her skin was slightly pale in the dim light of his darkened apartment. She was wearing one of his old T-shirts, and it had never looked better in the entire time that he had owned it. The shirt reached her mid-thigh, revealing her creamy, smooth legs to his gaze. He watched in a daze as the shirt suddenly slid down to reveal on shoulder, giving him a taste of what she might look like without clothes on, not that he hadn’t already seen it. Somehow, this was more intimate than when she had ripped off her shirt and revealed herself to him. He hadn’t taken the time to admire her form then, but now, the patch of revealed skin made his mouth water with the urge to devour her.

 

When he was finally able to tear his fascination away from her shoulder to meet her eyes, her sleepy golden gaze was on him. Bog felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment but she made no comment about his examination, rather, she lifted his favorite mug to her lips and took a deep draught of the steaming coffee that it contained. She let out a near sexual moan and Bog felt himself stirring in sudden interest as every fiber in his being vibrated with jealousy over a mug. 

 

He shook himself, trying to gain some semblance of control as he made his way over to the vixen across the kitchen from him. With every step he felt like she was drawing him in, no matter how he fought that dangerous attraction. Her eyes stayed glued to his form as he fumbled with the mug she had set out for him and quickly poured himself a ration of coffee. He felt his sleep pants tightening again as that wayward image of every morning being filled with a half-naked Marianne wearing his clothes and making him coffee. Only, in his fantasy he was emerging from the bed they shared, not the living room couch.

 

Quickly he took a sip of his coffee, needing some kind of distraction, anything, to pull him out of this perilous fantasy and back to the real world where Marianne was his client, roommate, and at the most friend. Besides, a beautiful woman like her would never fall for a beast like him.

 

Oh good, he thought bitterly as his disparaging thoughts awoke and began taunting him once more.

 

“Good morning Bog.” Her voice was rough with sleep, almost to the point of being sultry, and his negative thoughts fled in the face of the spitfire. It was sweet relief that he longed to hold onto.

 

“Guid mornin’.” He finally found his own voice, even rougher than usual. Her gaze darkened for a second, so quick that he dismissed it as a fanciful imagining. Then she hit him with a smile that was equal parts lazy and guilty.

 

“Sorry for kicking you out of your bed last night.” She shifted and the shirt fell a little farther, revealing more of her arm. Bog’s mouth went dry as he watched the shirt fall and then settle once more on her body, as if it was mocking him by revealing inch by tantalizing inch. After a few seconds of silence, Bog realized that it was his turn to speak and he practically jumped away from her, narrowly avoiding spilling his coffee everywhere.

 

“Nae problem! It’s nae problem!” He sputtered frantically and Marianne watched him with a startled but amused look, “Ah like sleeping on the couch. Prefer it actually. So feel free tae sleep in mah bed whenever ye want.”

 

His entire face must have looked like a tomato as he finished his rambling, deciding to stop himself before he offended her, if he hadn’t already by inviting her into his bed. His dread melted away when she let out a feminine laugh that surprisingly fit her despite her rough and tumble personality. She was smiling up at him, her free hand moving to her hip as her posture shifted into sass mode.

 

“Tempting, but I think I’ll just buy a mattress and sleep in that room you promised me.” She winked and Bog felt his heart flutter weakly in his chest. Shock rippled through him and he fought the urge to peer incredulously down at his chest. He had thought that his heart was dead in his chest, never to flutter or thump or give any indication that love still lived within him.

 

His shock must have shown on his face because Marianne’s confidence faded for a second, and suddenly she was gripping his favorite mug like a lifeline, “I mean if that’s still okay with you. I can find somewhere else if you’re not comfortable…” She trailed off awkwardly as Bog scrambled to catch up with the conversation.

 

“No! I mean, the room is yours if’n ye want it. A have nae problem.” He stumbled over his words again, cursing his inability to articulate his words whenever he was around her. Despite his awkward delivery, the mood was saved and Marianne’s face split into an eager smile.

 

“Awesome! I’m gonna go call my sister and get my stuff mailed here.” She levered herself up off of the counter and dashed off towards his room, his favorite mug still captive in her grip as she disappeared to search for her phone. Bog was left standing in the kitchen with nothing but coffee to soothe his frayed control. As soon as she was out of sight he took a long gulp of his coffee and slumped against the counter in relief. It was like every time she was around he got caught up in a delightful whirlwind of nerves and thrills and each time she left he just craved more.

 

* * *

 

Marianne idly explored Bog’s room as she scrolled through her contacts to find her sister. She looked away from Bog’s horror novel collection and down at her sister’s contact displayed on her screen. She carefully pressed the call button and held her phone up to her ear, dreading the reaction that she was about to get from her over-excitable younger sister.

 

She hadn’t spoken to Dawn or her father beyond a text saying that the wedding was cancelled and that she needed time to herself. That had been nearly a week ago, and while she had received various calls and text messages from her worried family members she had remained stubbornly off the grid. Dawn picked up on the second ring and before Marianne could even take a breath to speak Dawn was screeching in her ear.

 

“ _MARIANNE FAE FAIRFIELD!_ ” Marianne winced and held the phone away from her head in an attempt to avoid going deaf.

 

“ _Where in the sweet baby Jesus have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!_ ” Marianne sighed and sat down on Bog’s bed, fiddling with his comforter as she waited for Dawn’s rant to come to an end. “ _No call, no note! Not even a text message! Dad’s been losing his marbles and I’ve had to be… responsible._ ”

 

Marianne had to hold back her laughter at the way that Dawn said ‘responsible’ like it was the most disgusting concept in the universe. Dawn obviously heard her snickering as her screeching reached new heights of indignation.

 

“ _You think this is FUNNY?! Well you better start talking or else… or else I’ll be really mad at you…forever!_ ” The threat was weak, but Marianne knew that Dawn had been worried from the way her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. Her mirth faded as she felt guilt set in and she laid back on Bog’s bed and let out a heavy sigh.

 

“I’m sorry Dawn. I just needed some time after the whole Roland thing to just… find **me** again.” She felt her throat start to close up and for the first time she wondered why it had been so much easier to talk to Bog, a complete stranger, about what had happened with Roland.

 

“ _What happened Marianne?_ ” Dawn’s voice was soft and laden with concern but something in Marianne still resisted telling her sister about her greatest failure. How could she tell Dawn that she had completely gotten lost in a selfish pretty boy and had been completely blind to his games? She couldn’t, at least not yet.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it Dawn…” She choked out, cursing Roland and his ability to make her cry even though he wasn’t there. Little rivulets of tears streamed down her cheeks and stained Bog’s sheets.

 

“ _Not even with me?_ ” Marianne heard the hurt laced in her sister’s voice and cursed her inability to talk to her sister about her heartache. it wasn’t fair to Dawn that Bog knew and she didn’t, not that Dawn even knew about Bog, but still the guilt ate away at her.

 

“I can’t… I’m sorry Dawn.” She barely whispered and the other side of the line went quiet for a few minutes. Marianne was almost convinced that Dawn had hung up on her and was actually upset enough to ignore her forever when Dawn’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

 

“ _Are you coming back Mari?_ ” Her voice was almost childlike as she reverted to Marianne’s childhood nickname. Marianne felt her heart give another painful twinge when she realized that the moment she had left she knew she was never going back. It was time for her to escape that life and find a new one, possibly in this sleepy town.

 

“No Dawn, at least not right now.” She threw in the last bit of comfort for her little sister, hoping that it would be enough to avoid a full melt down or any other drastic move that Dawn might make. The youngest Springfield was well known in their hometown for her dramatics and the last thing Marianne needed was for her to throw a rare tantrum.

 

“ _Ok…_ ” Dawn’s voice was suspicious and sad but it was better than what Marianne had been anticipating. She heard movement in the living room and she realized that Bog was probably waiting for his room so that he could get ready for work. It was time to get down to business, after all, she could call Dawn later and have a talk with her.

 

“So I need you to mail me some of my stuff. I found a place to stay in town but I don’t have any extra clothes or anything.” She discussed details with Dawn for a couple more minutes, giving her the mailing address and specifying what she needed/wanted for her new home. She gave her sister a heartfelt goodbye and then hung up the phone, taking a moment to herself to just bask in the silence that echoed painfully in her head.

 

After another couple of minutes she finally pushed herself to her feet and emerged into the living room where Bog was drinking his second cup of coffee and sitting on the couch. He practically jumped to his feet when she emerged and Marianne felt her chest warm when he gave her an uncertain smile.

 

“Everythin’ go okay with yer sister?” He asked gruffly and Marianne’s smile twisted ruefully.

 

“As well as it can. Dawn can be kinda dramatic.” She shrugged helplessly and Bog winced empathetically, his mother’s antics popping into his head as soon as she mentioned it.

 

“Ah know what ye mean.” He chuckled nervously and Marianne walked further into the living room until she was standing right in front of him, all of her glory perfectly on display. She hadn’t changed yet, still wearing that damned shirt in the sexiest way that any shirt could ever be worn.

 

“She’s gonna mail my stuff here for me and then you’ll have yourself a proper roommate.” She chuckled and Bog joined her with his own deep laughter.

 

“Do ye um… do ye need anythin’ in the meantime?” He asked once their laughter had settled down and Marianne looked down at her lack of clothes as if considering whether or not she really needed anything before her stuff arrived.

 

“Just some essentials.” She quipped, playing with the fabric of his shirt as if to imply that it was one of her essentials. Bog had a sudden feeling that he was never going to see that shirt again. “But most importantly, do you know anywhere that’s hiring? I kinda need a job.”

 

Bog felt his heart start to pound loudly in his chest and his common sense fought with his newfound impulses to torture himself with Marianne’s presence. He needed another waitress for the bar, but was it really safe for him to be around Marianne that much? She had already rekindled feeling in him just by standing in his kitchen and making him coffee, what could happen if she worked in his beloved bar and he continued to tattoo her. One look in those big golden eyes and he didn’t quite care. He rationalized that while she made him feel things that he hadn’t allowed in years, he could resist acting on them, he could be her friend. And so his heart ran away with his mouth.

 

“Ye could work fer me.” He blurted out and Marianne raised one elegant eyebrow in intrigue as she waited for him to elaborate. “Ah need a new waitress in the bar. It’s nae much but…”

 

He trailed off as Marianne’s smile widened and she all but tackled him in a tight hug that made a myriad of conflicting emotions well up inside of him. Half of him wanted desperately to escape her grasp and retreat to his comfort zone where he could safely wallow in his loneliness and avoid change, while the other part of him wanted to pull her flush against his body and shower her lithe form with kisses. Deciding that neither option was viable, Bog settled with awkwardly wrapping his arms around her back and letting the warmth of her embrace soak into him.

 

“It’s perfect.” She whispered against his chest, pulling back from the embrace just enough to look up at him and pin him with a positively joyous smile. Bog shifted uncomfortably but gave her a smile right back, the air a little too thick with intimate tension for his liking.

 

“Yeah well, it’s hard work, so nae slackin’ off Princess.” He slipped back into his snarky mood, expecting her to distance herself and react negatively like he was used to. To his surprise, her fire just flared along with his attitude and though she pulled away from his hug she wasn’t retreating, rather she was meeting his challenge.

 

“Oh please. I can take anything you can dish out Slick.” She stuck her tongue out at him and sauntered into the kitchen to refill her coffee mug. Bog watched her go with a dopey, crooked grin until he realized what he was doing. He frowned and scolded himself as he hurried into his room and towards the cold shower that would hopefully pull him out of this lovey dovey funk.

 

But when he came out of his room, dressed in his ripped jeans and an ACDC tank top and found her curled up on his couch sipping coffee and waiting for her turn in the shower his heart skipped a beat.

 

“I’m in trouble.” He growled to himself.


End file.
